i’ll peel back the skin from my head let the sun melt you from my memory i’ll drink myself to sleep and escape the nightmares of being awake. i’ll set the air afire. you never even tried to tell me what went wrong, what went wrong. in this train wreck that we built together what went wrong, what went wrong.

you said always. say you will, pretend to care. say you will be there always. say you will, pretend to care. say you will be there

always.

steal my breath, taint the air. every bone in my body’s been broken and my life is a jaw wired shut, my voice is my curse and my shelter from the pain and i’m breathing carbon just to fall asleep at night. asleep at night. in this train wreck that we built together nothing’s right, nothing’s right.

you said always. say you will, pretend to care. say you will be there always. say you will, pretend to care. say you will be there

you said always.

you’re stabbing my heart.

broken hearts, broken doors. dying on a hotel floor. because of a small black box you couldn’t receive. i’ll drive you home tomorrow in silence. my sister will return it.

this is the end of the summer, and the beginnings of the fall. you’ll leave me two months later. in an airport goodbye. and as the weeks go on the letters and the phone calls decrease. ah, to fade from memory.

so keep the punches coming: left, right, right, left, left. kick the throat you used to kiss. push face into concrete. a smile, a giant fist. the bl–dy face of bliss. and as i gasp for my last breath, i crawl back into your perfect poison arms.